


first encounter with the enemy

by thingswithwings



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Competition, F/F, Mario Kart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at you, all riled up," she breathes, jerking her chin towards Amy.  "I shoulda known.  You always get like this when you get competitive."</p>
            </blockquote>





	first encounter with the enemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theagonyofblank](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/gifts).



> With the prompt "challenge accepted!", I couldn't help but make these two compete in some silly way. Hope you enjoy it, theagonyofblank!

By hour five of the Nine Nine Ultimate Mario Kart Championship 2015, there are only three players left standing. 

By hour six, Gina finally drops twenty points below the other two, and leaves her wheel behind in a flurry of angry interpretive dance.

"I am not defeated," she pronounces, "for truly Princess Peach and I are too royal for your tiny racing world." 

Which just leaves Rosa, calm and cool in her leather jacket, flawless on her Wario Bike, standing between Amy and total victory.

Amy's almost glad it's come down to the two of them. Rosa takes competition seriously, and beating her will win Amy a lot of bragging rights around the Nine Nine.

"I have seven brothers, Diaz, I know my way around a racetrack," Amy warns, mushrooming her way through the middle of a store in Coconut Mall. Her eyes are stinging and she's developed an ache in her shoulder, but none of that matters right now.

Rosa snorts and throws three red shells at her, one after another, taking down her two-banana defense and knocking her into a fountain. "Whatever. I got two sisters and I bet either one of them could wipe the floor with all your brothers put together."

"This smack talk is getting serious," Boyle says, from somewhere far behind them, having been eliminated from the game early on. That's what he gets for playing in a car shaped like a fish, Amy thinks.

"Just you wait, Boyle," Amy growls. "This is just beginning."

*

During the time-out at hour eight, Jake massages Rosa's shoulders while Terry makes Amy put her thumbs into a bucket of ice.

"Ah, ah, ah, oh God, it hurts," Amy gasps, not sure if the ice is excruciatingly good or excruciatingly bad. Her thumbs feel at least three times bigger than normal. It takes a few seconds to even get her now-claw-like hands to unclench.

"You can always give up," Rosa says, glaring right at her. Rosa's opening and closing her fists rhythmically, stretching her fingers, which looks way cooler than what Amy's doing.

Whatever; Amy doesn't need to be cool to win. She meets Rosa's glare with as much passion and determination as she can muster given that her thumbs are currently possibly falling off into the ice.

"Never," she grits out, setting her mouth firmly and jutting out her chin in her most intimidating facial expression. "Or have you forgotten that I'm in the lead?"

Rosa snorts. "By three points. And only because I got blueshelled at the last minute on Rainbow Road." Her grin gets big and sharp, the way it does sometimes, the way Amy sometimes can't help but stare at. "Pretty lucky for you since you spent all your time going over the rails."

Amy feels her breath coming faster. Her thumbs don't hurt so much anymore, and the ache in her shoulder is fading away.

"Sarge, how much longer we got on this time out?" she asks, over her shoulder.

"Five minutes," Terry answers gently, "though I want to reiterate my offer to put the championship on hold until tomorrow so you can both rest up. And not kill each other. I'm really trying to emphasize the thing where you _don't_ become so sleep deprived and high on adrenaline that you kill each other with plastic steering wheels in the storage room of a police department."

"You heard the Sarge, five minutes," Amy bellows to the room, choosing to ignore the second part. She's fine. She knows her limits. And the neck-and-neck competition with Rosa feels way too good to want to stop now.

Jake finishes his massage and begins applying hot towels to Rosa's hands. Unfortunately, it looks like Jake made the towels hot by putting them in the microwave.

"Ow, what the hell, Peralta," Rosa hisses, pulling her hand back from the dry, probably burning hot towel.

"I _told_ you," Boyle mutters.

"Shut up," Jake says to Boyle, before he turns to Rosa. "I'm so sorry, champ, did I hurt you? What do you need?" 

Rosa waves at Jake like he's an annoying buzzing fly, just the way Amy always wants to but doesn't because of professionalism. "I need you to stop burning my flesh with hot towels," Rosa replies.

"Injured, Diaz?" Amy asks sweetly. "I hope it's nothing that'll keep you from playing."

"Peralta," Rosa barks, not taking her eyes away from Amy's. "Salve. Bandaid."

Jake hops to and doctors the wound he's made.

"Gonna play through the pain," Rosa says, smiling that big sharp smile again. Amy gathers her courage and tries to smile back the same way.

"Yeah? Well, we'll see," she says, because she put all her thought into her dangerous smile and didn't plan out her banter very well.

"And maybe when I win, you can kiss it better," Rosa adds. Amy feels her skin flush, the hot exciting embarrassment of competition that always overcomes her, always makes her lose her cool.

"Never gonna happen," Amy swears.

"Two minutes! Players to their positions," Terry calls, sighing a little at the end of it, like he wishes this weren't happening but knows it's his job to enforce the rules. The Sarge has some eloquent sighs sometimes.

Amy takes her hands out of the ice and allows Gina to dry them off with (unmicrowaved) paper towels. Gina takes Amy's face in her hands.

"You are now representing the noble race of lady video game princesses," she says seriously. Her face is really close to Amy's face. "And even though Daisy is the ugly one, you will not let our line down by giving in to that fashion-deprived dominatrix turtle."

"You mean Bowser, right?" Amy would never dress as unprofessionally as Rosa does, but no one can deny that she looks good. And she's not a turtle. And – 

"Rosa is Bowser. Bowser is Rosa. They are your enemy."

"Got it," Amy says, wondering how much longer until Gina lets go of her face. "Enemy."

As she turns to go, Gina gives her a little smack on the ass.

"If you're done making out with your girlfriend, I've got a championship to win," Rosa says, as Amy takes her seat again. They start another game, courses randomized, and find themselves on Grumble Volcano with the countdown beginning. Three, two, one – 

Amy mashes the accelerator.

"You shouldn't – Gina's not my girlfriend," she says, still caught up in the thought.

"You should be so lucky, Ugly Princess," Gina calls from behind them. 

Rosa makes a grunting noise, almost like Bowser when he gets hit by a koopa shell. "Oh."

"You – " Amy tries to come up with the words for the question, but she's distracted, trying to navigate her little bike through the toughest part of the course: the big jump right before the fork in the road, with lava on either side and fiery comets raining down from above.

"I guess I kind of thought she was, yeah," Rosa says, quietly.

Amy drives right off the cliff and into the lava.

*

By the time the next break rolls around, at hour ten, Rosa is fifteen points up, the betting pool has shifted significantly in her favor, and Amy is not going to waste any time getting to the bottom of this.

She's a detective. And with every race she'd lost, every bike trick failure and every fall off of a toadstool into a bottomless pit, she'd felt more sure.

Rosa said what she said to throw her off.

So when Terry sleepily declares a twenty minute break, Amy takes Rosa by the wrist, stands up, and hauls her out of the storage area and towards one of the interrogation-observation rooms. Rosa grunts out a surprised "hey!" but doesn't resist, letting Amy shove her in and close the door.

" _What,_ " Rosa half-yells, shaking her wrist free of Amy's grip and turning to face her. She looks stoic and angry, like usual, but her breathing is faster than it should be and Amy thinks she spots a twitch.

"I can't believe you did that just to win at Mario Kart," Amy hisses, pointing furiously. She knows she has a tendency to point when she gets angry, but she can't help herself. "I thought we were friends."

Rosa's eyes widen in surprise. "What? That's stupid." 

Amy clenches her jaw and folds her arms across her chest. 

"I mean, it's not stupid. We are. We're friends." Rosa looks thoroughly unsure of herself, and really angry because of it. "I mean, what are you talking about?"

"Teasing me about Gina," Amy says, and then she can't help it; her voice drops to a low hiss. "When I told you I was bi I didn't think you'd throw it in my face just for some stupid game. I told you because – because you said we should have each other's backs. I thought you would have my back. And then you go and do this." 

Rosa blinks twice, and then her mouth gets smaller and her eyes get narrower and Amy almost holds up her hands in surrender, almost, because she's only seen Rosa look that mad a couple of times before.

"I didn't," Rosa insists, balling her hands up into fists and taking a step toward her. Then, maybe seeing something in Amy's face, fear or hurt or betrayal, she takes a step back again and unclenches her fists. "Amy. I didn't. I wouldn't." She sounds so sincere, so plaintive, that Amy can't help but believe her.

"Okay, so, then . . . " Amy swallows hard and blinks hard and does everything she can to keep from crying. She's been awake a long time. She's been playing Mario Kart a long time. When she closes her eyes she can see the afterimages, karts and bikes and the bright white snow of DK Summit. Maybe, in retrospect, this wasn't the best time to have an emotional conversation.

Rosa holds her gaze, breathing hard a few times before she opens her mouth, like she has to work up the courage to answer. "Ever since – when you told me that, I guess I started thinking about it a lot. About who you might be into. And you and Gina . . . I don't know, touch a lot. She smacks your ass. And you both played as princesses."

"Okay, but Princess Daisy is way better," Amy scoffs, automatically. The corner of Rosa's mouth turns up a little.

"Yeah. I like how she yells and complains when she loses. Just like you."

Amy breathes out a little laugh. "You – so you really thought – "

Rosa shrugs uncomfortably. "I guess I figured the signs were pretty clear. I shouldn't have said anything though." She looks down. "If you were dating Gina, I shouldn't have teased you about it anyway. It just slipped out." Amy waits, because she's learned that sometimes with Rosa you just have to wait, and after a minute her patience is rewarded. "I'm . . . sorry," Rosa adds.

"It's okay," Amy says automatically, then remembers her therapist's advice, takes a deep breath, and thinks about it. She finds that most of the anger has drained out of her. "Yeah, it's okay," she says again, more sure of herself. "So long as it wasn't on purpose."

"It wasn't," Rosa insists. Amy nods.

"All right. I guess I'd better go put my thumbs back in the ice, then."

This time, Rosa's hand wraps around Amy's wrist. Her grip is like steel, even after all these hours of Mario Kart.

Amy turns to look at her.

Rosa shifts from foot to foot, and then asks, "I was a coward. Making assumptions and snide little comments. I should've just asked."

"Asked what?" Amy breathes.

"Amy. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Heat surges through her, reddening her skin and exciting her blood and drying her mouth. She licks her lips. "No."

Rosa takes a step closer, and this time she's confident, firm. "Boyfriend." It should be a question, but it's not delivered like one.

"No," Amy says.

"Good," Rosa growls, and it really is funny how much she sounds like Bowser sometimes, and that really isn't something that Amy should be thinking about right now, because Rosa's mouth is on hers and her hands are burying themselves in Rosa's thick hair and Rosa's knee is sliding against her thigh.

It's exactly how Amy thought Rosa would kiss, all heat and tongue and teeth, no preamble, no careful testing of boundaries, just diving right in like it's their hundredth kiss and not their first.

It makes Amy wonder, as she tightens her grip on Rosa's hair and opens her mouth wide and pushes herself hard and aggressive up against Rosa's body, as she moans eagerly and takes her fill, what their hundredth kiss might end up being like.

After a while they both slow down a little, the kiss turning gentler and softer right before it ends completely. Amy, dizzy and brave, full of adrenaline and relief and the scent of Rosa's skin, bites Rosa's lip lightly just before she pulls away. Rosa chuckles.

"Look at you, all riled up," she breathes, jerking her chin towards Amy. "I shoulda known. You always get like this when you get competitive." There's a light in Rosa's eyes that makes Amy want to shiver. She _is_ pretty riled up, she supposes.

"When _I_ get competitive," Amy laughs. She kisses Rosa again, hard, with lots of tongue.

"You're way worse than I am," Rosa insists, kissing back, and Amy laughs.

"Oh yeah?" Amy says, pulling back, breathless. "If you're not competitive then you won't mind if I beat you at Mario Kart."

"Ha. I'm not gonna let you win, Santiago."

"Because you're just as competitive as I am," Amy crows, victorious.

Rosa's eyes flick down to Amy's neck, and then she's coming closer, pressing her mouth against the soft skin there, biting and sucking and _oh God_ Amy is not going to live through this.

"Because you don't like it when it's not a fair fight," Rosa murmurs, her teeth on Amy's jugular. "Because you like a real fight best."

Amy's eyes close and she lets out a low groan, her fists clenching against Rosa's leather jacket.

They only stay closed for a couple seconds, though, because she's startled out of the moment by a loud knock on the door.

"What did I say about not killing each other," Terry yells. He sounds genuinely worried.

"We're fine," Rosa calls back. Her voice sounds normal, even though her lips are swollen and her hair is messed up and Amy knows, Amy can feel, that she's just as turned on as Amy is right now.

They listen until Terry's heavy footsteps recede. Amy licks her tender lips and meets Rosa's eyes. 

"Guess we'd better get back out there," she says. "I still have a championship to win."

"In your dreams. But after I win, let's pick up right here again. Where we left off." She runs her hand down from Amy's jaw to her neck, scratching lightly with her fingernails. "I want you."

Amy struggles to catch her breath. "I don't – I guess I should say, I'm not really used to casual relationships." 

"Shocker." Rosa smiles, and it's not so sharp as usual. On anyone else, Amy might even say it looked soft, or sweet. "We'll figure something out, princess."

They leave the room and duck down opposite corridors. Amy uses the bathroom, then heads to the breakroom for coffee and a donut. She listens to a pointed speech from Terry about graciousness in defeat and stretches out her fingers, clenching and unclenching her fists, feeling the sugar and caffeine begin to surge through her.

"I got this, Sarge," she assures him, before heading back into the storage room. They've got it fixed up nice for the event, couches and lamps and a cooler full of beer. Rosa's already sitting on the big couch in front of the giant TV they'd pulled from Evidence.

Amy sits down next to her, not quite close enough for their bodies to touch. Wordlessly, Rosa hands her a beer, already open.

"May the best woman win," Rosa says, never taking her eyes off of Amy for a second.

Amy drinks to that.

An hour later, after a fierce, dirty, neck-and-neck battle, Amy takes first at Waluigi Stadium in a tight photo-finish. Behind her there's cheering and whistling and a lot of money exchanged; she feels hands clasping her shoulders in congratulations and she smiles.

When she looks over at Rosa, Rosa is smiling too, and holding out her hand. Amy shakes it solemnly. 

"Good game," she says.

"Really good game," Rosa agrees, with a hot look that makes Amy shiver.

A couple hours after _that_ , she's rolling onto her back in Rosa's bed, chased by Rosa's slow, lazy kisses, sighing deeply and closing her eyes. She could sleep for a month, she's pretty sure. 

When Rosa speaks, she sounds sleepy and contented, slow and easy in a way Amy's never heard her before.

"Next week, basketball," she says.

**Author's Note:**

> Because it is obviously the best Mario Kart, especially when it comes to the selection of characters, the Nine Nine are playing Mario Kart Wii and not Mario Kart 8. Because I am a huge nerd, I sat down and figured out what each character would drive and their rationales for their choices:
> 
> Boyle: Koopa Troopa in a Cheep Charger (Obviously, Jake, he's the sexiest character! AND it's the sleekest vehicle.)
> 
> Jake: Waluigi on a Jetsetter (How can you lose with the fastest car in the game?!?!)
> 
> Terry: Rosalina in an Offroader (Terry likes powerful women. And Terry is a minivan man.)
> 
> Gina: Peach on a Dolphin Dasher (Flawless royalty, with one of nature's most majestic animals surging between her thighs.)
> 
> Rosa: Bowser on a Wario Bike (Badass.)
> 
> Amy: Daisy on a Zip Zip (I like to think it's a really sensible choice. And I love Daisy's hair. And her speed bonus.)
> 
> Captain Holt: Yoshi in a Standard Kart (Yoshi is admirably stable. And the standard kart has neither advantages nor disadvantages.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [first encounter with the enemy [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498952) by [cantarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantarina/pseuds/cantarina)
  * [[Podfic] first encounter with the enemy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114220) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




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